


hallucinogen

by woojin



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Breakups, M/M, hope? for meeting someone new, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh im bad at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojin/pseuds/woojin
Summary: it's as if junhui was sent from a divine figure to bring wonwoo up from the ashes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> just putting my Very Typical Writing Style out there again!!! havent written for svt in a Long Time

The night was slowly passing as Wonwoo’s eyes stared in the dirty mirror. 

The lights were going out, and the walls were an ugly pale color. They were fading away. It wasn’t like Wonwoo’s fading, of the blonde dye in his hair, the fading of his spirit.

He dyed it because he wanted change. He didn’t know whether more change would be therapeutic, or whether the unfamiliarity would make him feel even worse. The dreamy gaze in Mingyu’s eyes looked back at him in the mirror.

He missed Mingyu’s touch, that same tantalizing gaze, his strong, outward personality. Where he was cold, Mingyu was hot. Where Wonwoo was in heaven, Mingyu was burning with no scars in hell. Yet, his gaze still stayed in his heart. He felt small.

Even so, he felt sick, staring at himself. The world was spinning and Wonwoo was attempting to rise up for air, unable to breathe. At last, his body succumbed to the floor, too weak to even stand up. He thought he was a coward.

What he was about to do was more cowardly, in his opinion. His phone laid a few feet to his left. Staring at it, he unlocks it and sends:

to Mingyu, 12:51 a.m.   
I miss you, can we talk?

He waits. And waits. And waits. And waits. The cold floor wasn’t comfortable, but Wonwoo’s energy was placed in sadness. 

Yet, the music in the club still goes on, playing music that helps the partygoers their worries. Or maybe who they are. That’s why Wonwoo came here anyways. 

Someone comes in. He’s quiet, and almost, almost, steps on Wonwoo’s hand as he mindlessly walks. “Oh shit,” he whispers. 

Wonwoo can hear him. He can hear the man frantically shaking his body. Telling him to wake up. Wonwoo is alive in the still body, however, nothing is telling him to get up. He quite enjoys the attention. As fucked up as it was, no one seemed to be that concerned about him in a long time.

Wonwoo, almost like a fire was about to touch his eye, and not the man’s hand, opens it so quickly, it feels like the world had turned upside down. Wonwoo was in his arms, almost like a sculpture of a Greco-Roman myth. He was the damsel in distress, and honestly glad someone came to his rescue. 

Wonwoo felt like was looking at a painting, carefully looking at the man’s features. His sharp nose, his pink lips, and his gaze that when Wonwoo looked at his eyes, admittedly thought it could put Mingyu’s to shame. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. His voice is calm. Wonwoo feels like his soul is leaving his body.

“I am now, that I am with you.” he responds without thinking. Fuck, he thinks. 

The man laughs. “Do you want to get up?” His laugh was beautiful, and it was as smooth as the hands that grazed Wonwoo’s face. 

Wonwoo was blushing. He hadn’t felt this embarrassed, or this excited about anyone at first sight in a long time. In a very long time. 

When Wonwoo stood, the man was about the same height as him. They stared at each other for a while, but it didn’t feel awkward. 

“What’s your name?” the man asked, twirling his hands, smiling. 

Wonwoo was struggling to get the mere three syllables out, thrown off by the man’s bright smile in such a dark room. “J-Jeon. Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Wen Junhui.”

“I don’t really want to stay here, anymore.” Wonwoo blurted. 

“I don’t either. Clubbing actually makes me sick.”

“Why did you come, then?” I guess we’re talking here, Wonwoo thought.

“My friend’s getting shitfaced for his birthday. He’s just a kid, so I was against it at first, but at the end I realized that he won’t be one for much longer.” He looked a bit sad, talking about his friend that was probably a minute walk away. “He’s like a brother to me, pretty much the only other Chinese kid in the neighborhood.

“I’m glad he’s growing up, but that means he’ll rely on me less and less. I want him to remember me. I’m afraid of him forgetting me, if that makes sense?” 

“It does.” he says. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Why did you come?” he said, opening the door, navigating him out the door. They traveled through crowds of fiery, sweaty people, throwing themselves to the boosted bass of the song. 

After a few minutes passed, they were outside, and Wonwoo answered. “To forget about my shitty ex-boyfriend.”

“A club won’t help you. Attempting to drown it out doesn’t mean anything if you rise from the water.” Junhui responded.

“Wow, really wise.” Wonwoo snorted.

“Hey, I’m just telling the truth.” Just as he finished his sentence, Junhui’s friend had come outside. 

“Junhui, why don’t you come back inside? Hansol and I bet that if you leave early, I’d down some shots.” The statement was completely in Chinese, to which Junhui responded in the same manner: blunt and in Chinese. As he went back inside, Junhui shouted at him. “I’m sorry, I love you.” 

Wonwoo could understand that, at least. The boy shouted back some words, ina playfully angry way. 

“What did he say?” 

“I just told him I was leaving. I want to get to know you some more.”

“That’s not fair to him, though,” Wonwoo trailed off as he blushed, as Junhui wanted to get to know him. 

“He won’t mind. He knows me. I know him.

“Do you wanna come to my place?.” Junhui offered. “You can chill there, if you don’t want to go home alone.”  
“Are you sure? What if I’m a murderer? Do you just invite random guys to your home all the time?” Wonwoo joked. 

“I don’t think I would trust anyone I met in the club bathroom, but something is different.”

. . . 

 

Junhui lives alone, obviously seen by the neatness of the house, and the lack of variety in the style of the room. The living room is just as dark as the club they just left. The couches were sleek, and black, several green plants growing in the four corners of the room. The tables were all made of the cleanest, seemingly untouched glass. Junhui was much more wealthier than Wonwoo thought. In fact, the whole house felt empty. 

When he looked at Junhui, he sensed the emptiness in his heart. He could feel the loneliness manifest in front of him. That was okay though, because Wonwoo was able to cure that, for only so long, at least.

“Does anyone live with you?” Wonwoo asked, sitting himself on the couch. It felt much softer than it looked. He sank in the chair, waiting for Junhui’s answer.

“Only Minghao comes to stay the night.” Wonwoo stared at Junhui. “My friend with the party, just now.”

“Ah,” he realized. 

“There’s food in the fridge, anything you’d like.” Junhui offered.

There was silence as they stared across the room. “So, why did you come to Korea?” Wonwoo wanted to break the ice.

“University. My parents rented this for me.” he answered, taking his shirt off, going into in the hallway and disappearing into his bedroom to find another. After a few minutes, and constant sounds of the hangers sweeping around the closet, he comes out without one. “It doesn’t matter. Anyways, I came because I wanted something different. I knew what I wanted to do was available in China, but I got tired of my city.”

“Where are you from?”

“Shenzhen. Right outside of Hong Kong.” he smiled. “Are you from Seoul?”

“Nope. Changwon.

“What do you major in?”

“Acting. I was a child actor in China, but I quit for a while. While I was in high school, I had some sort of revelation, and my life felt empty when I wasn’t acting.” Junhui looked like he was watching an episode of his life.

Suddenly he and Junhui were sharing everything about themselves. Wonwoo talked his short time as a trainee for an idol company, and how he left to pursue his art. He discussed how he got to know Mingyu, how Seungcheol and Hansol were one of his only confidantes. 

“I don’t think I’m meant to date people that are heavily reliant on science. He was very rationalistic. He didn’t like to dream, or believe. When you think you know everything, you refuse to accept that facts change. Not everything is going to remain the same. It never does. There’s always a part that we weren’t ready for, or a factor no one considered.

“Hansol has a hope that no one I’ve never seen in anyone. He’s strong for his age. I was incredibly immature at that time. I’ve underestimated him, too many times. Seungcheol is strong in a different way, almost leaderly. He takes the burdens of others and washes them away. He has a way of healing people, in an ethereal sense.” 

Junhui talked about how acting as a child felt like he wasn’t allowed to live his life. He also talked about his own Mingyu, a guy named Mingming, a childhood friend.

“We didn’t really break up, no, it just felt like the distance between us grew, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. Like the sea’s diameter flourished.”

It was exactly 3:33 a.m. when their lips touched. It felt like a rush of blood bolting to Wonwoo’s head, making him dizzy and embracing him.

For Junhui, it felt solemn. Same. Just as the sun rises in the day, and as it sets in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it haha!! im very good with what i want to convey but im not the best at expanding them. as you can tell im not a fan of repetition of words and my writing tends to be (unnecessarily) poetic, so thats why its much shorter than expected.
> 
> a lot of this fic was comprised by listening to body by mino. thanks bro
> 
> feedback is always appreciated. please leave me a comment they make me happy


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